“You couldn’t guess in a month,” added Bill, who fixed his gaze on his book while he was talking.
“Didn’t I hear you speaking to some one in the hold, Bill?” asked Bark, as he picked up a book, in order to follow the studious example of his companion.
“I was speaking to some one,” replied Bill.
“Who was it?”
“Raimundo; and he knew that you were concerned in the job without my mentioning your name;” and Bill explained what had passed between himself and the second master.
“Raimundo!” exclaimed Bark, in a musing manner. “Then he mysteriously disappeared into the hold.”
“He did; and he has us where the hair is short,” added Bill.
“And perhaps we have him where the hair is long enough to get hold of. All we have to do is to tell Salter, when he comes to look at us, that Raimundo is in the hold.”
“We won’t do it; and then Raimundo won’t say we set the vessel on fire,” protested Bill.
“Wait a bit, Bill. He is a spooney, a chaplain’s lamb. He may keep still till he gets out of his own scrape, whatever it may be, and then blow on us when he is safe himself.”